Cigarettes
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: This is the first in my series Way Back Home. Sam's away at Stanford and Dean's out on the road. But neither of them can seem to find their home. The song Cigarettes is by The Wreckers. Wincest Warning!


_I ain't gonna sleep  
_

Sam growled in frustration and flipped onto his back for the hundredth time. He had a class in four hours and if he didn't get to sleep soon he was going to be a wreck. Normally a day or two without sleep wasn't a big deal for him, he was a Winchester. He'd spent many days without sleep hunting and fighting, doing what needed to be done. Class was nothing compared to that.

Normally.

But he hadn't had more than two, three hours sleep in weeks. It was hard to sleep when all he could think about was his older brother and the fight they'd had before he left. The same fight they'd had over and over whenever he'd brought up college. But that night had been worse, because that night everything was real.

Staring up at the ceiling he could still see his brother's angry face as if he were standing there in his dorm with him right now.

**He was leaving in the morning. This was really and truly it. He was leaving behind the Winchester life in search of something better, something _normal_ and he should have been happy. Thrilled even that his father wasn't standing in his way like he'd thought.**

**Dad had told him if he left there was no coming back. And it hurt to hear that, to have his father turn him away because he craved something more than this obsessive search for a demon that had killed his mother and destroyed their lives. **

**He understood why his father needed to find that demon, understood in some way why his brother followed dad blindly. But he couldn't imagine his mother wanting this for them. She would want them to be happy. And he wasn't happy here.**

**Not anymore.**

**He had to leave. Had to stop hurting his brother. Dean of all of them had suffered the most. Dad had lost a wife and his reason for living, outside of his boys. Sam had lost a mother that he never got to know. But Dean, Dean had lost a mother he had known. And that, in Sam's mind, was worse. **

**His brother had had a taste of the apple pie life he craved. Their mother, father, and a new baby brother. The only thing missing was the puppy and the white picket fence. And then everything had been ripped away. His perfect life shattered. **

**Mom died, dad lost himself and Dean found himself in charge of a six month old baby, with no chance to be lost. To grieve and feel the pain he felt. Dad hadn't done it on purpose and Sam certainly hadn't intended to be Dean's burden for life, but that was how things had worked out.**

**  
Dean took charge. He cared for Sam and dad, did as he was told and never argued. He was a good little soldier. The perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect broken man. **

**Pain, hurt, anger, it didn't matter what he felt because all you got was the smirk. The quick witted remark. Or the _yes sir_ and a sharp nod before getting down to business. There was never any complaining, arguing. **

**Nothing.**

**Dean just did. **

**And for that he suffered. **

**Because he cared too much for his family, because that was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he dared ever ask for. **

**Family. **

**And he could hardly have that. **

**They were on the road constantly. Everything always changing, the schools, the kids, the hunts. The only constant they'd ever had was each other. And that had been just the beginning, what had led them up to this point. Where brother stood against brother, each hurting, each angry, and one more lost than the other.**

**Standing there now, staring into his brother's accusing face, he was reminded of all that. All the sacrifices his brother had made for him, for their family. He felt his heart break all over as he thought about all the ways he'd hurt his brother more instead of helping.**

**He needed, Dean gave. **

**Without question, without thought for himself. **

**It was all for Sammy. **

**_His Sammy_, he said. **

**It was so selfless, so giving, so Dean. And it broke his heart more than the thought of actually leaving. **

**If he left at least his brother could get back to normal. Or Winchester normal anyway and move on with his life. Without Sam there to ruin him, things would be better. He just had to keep reminding himself that as Dean waited for an answer. **

"_**Why?"**_

**It was one word. One question. And it was impossible to answer.**

**Dean would only tell him he was wrong, that Sammy was good. Dean was the one ruining him. And that only made this easier for him. Dean's taking the blame only reinforced his belief that he was ruining his big brother.**

"**I need to go, Dean. I don't want to…"**

"**Then don't go," He damn near pleaded. The closest thing to pleading or begging Dean would ever get in his life and Sam knew it. He wasn't sure if that sound weakened his resolve or pushed him further. **

"**I need to. I _have_ to."**

**Dean shook his head and snorted in disgust. "I should have known better. Thinking that we were enough, that _I _was enough. You always did want normal."**

**Normal. The word nearly sent Sam into fits. Hell yes he wanted normal, but he would never have it. No matter how fast or how far he ran he would never be _normal. _Not when he was so in love with his big brother he couldn't think straight. **

**Normal was something Sam Winchester would never be.**

Sam swore colorfully and punched his pillow as he rolled over again, forcing back the memory, the rest of the fight. If he had just told Dean that wasn't true; had just told him that he was more than enough, that it was Sam that would never be enough for Dean; could never be enough. Then at least his brother would know he loved him.

God, didn't he know that anyway? After everything…didn't he realize Sam loved him? He was going to hell for him, no doubt about it. And he couldn't bring himself to care. Not that _he_ was going to hell anyway; Dean was another matter all together.

None of it mattered anymore though. It was too late. It had been almost a month since he'd last seen his brother. Since Dean had even looked at him. Said even a word to him. There were no phone calls, no visits.

Not that he really expected any. He didn't deserve it. Not after the way things had gone down. He'd let his brother think he was nothing to him and then he'd left him in a broken down motel somewhere outside of Dallas, with a father who was too broken to tell him Sam was wrong.

_I ain't gonna dream  
About the things that I used to need_

The only good thing about never sleeping was the never dreaming.

Whenever Sam found he could sleep, dreams always followed. They started out differently. Different motel room, different state, different ways of sneaking off from dad. There was kissing, touching, the heavy breathing and the exchange of words never said in the light of day or anywhere outside of this.

Everything was so vivid and real. Sam woke up throbbing every time, his cheeks stained with tears of pleasure and pain.

Things would be fine if they stopped there. The bittersweet memories of his time with Dean were torture, and he deserved every last thing he got for hurting Dean like he had. But they didn't stop there. They never did.

Because the dreams always ended the same. That same hurt look, the disgust, as Dean accused Sam of wanting more than he could give. Dean would never be enough. This would never be enough.

And before he could fix the biggest mistake of his life, even bigger than falling in love with his older brother, the dream ended. True to life they kissed and touched, and Sam cried. Dean, well, Dean didn't cry, now did he?

He'd never been allowed it growing up; there was no room for it now. He was a man. But Sam was exempt from that rule, always. So Dean pulled him close and stroked his hair.

When Sam woke the next morning he was gone. A wad of money stuffed in his duffel along with Dean's favorite shirt. His brother's only goodbye. The only thing he could stand to give to Sam now that he was leaving.

_I ain't gonna cry_

Sam scrubbed his face furiously as tears pricked the back of his eyes. It had been almost a month and still just thinking about it made him want to throw the biggest temper tantrum anyone had ever seen. He wanted to kick, scream and cry for Dean like he had as a child until he got his way.

Until an exasperated Dean picked him up off the floor and scolded him for a full two seconds before the big tear filled puppy dog eyes tore him down and he wrapped his arms around Sam. Pulling him to his chest with a sigh and a muttered apology, before stroking his hair and reassuring him that he was there.

Always there.

Only he wasn't now.

The only promise Dean had ever broken and it was because Sam had forced him.

He rolled over onto his right side and stared at the alarm clock beside his bed, nearly blocked out of view by the books he'd been studying only hours ago. The bright, glowing red numbers, slowly switching over. Counting every painful moment, minute by God damn minute.

That was his life now. He went to class, he studied, and sometimes he managed to eat or sleep. But mostly he thought of Dean and dad, wondered where they were now and what they were hunting. And if they missed him or thought of him.

Like he always did of them

He'd even picked up the phone a few times, had Dean's cell dialed before he realized what he was doing and slammed the phone shut. Dean never called back and Sam half wished he had.

Studying and class could only take up so much time, no matter how much he pushed. He kept telling himself he'd done it for Dean. That this was all for _Dean_ and that should be more than enough to keep him strong.

Only it wasn't.

He was too selfish, too use to needing and taking. Not giving.

_Or go on living lies  
_

Dean would get a good laugh out of this if he could see him now. See Sam and his "apple pie life", his God damn "normal". Because if this was normal, to hell with it. What was normal about living a life of lies? Of pretending you weren't hurting when every second that passed only made him ache more, only made the next breath more difficult than the last?

He hadn't escaped that life of lies. Of being something he wasn't. He'd made a few friends here and there amazingly enough, but they didn't know him. They were like every other friend he'd had in high school after high school.

Shallow at best.

He'd run far and fast to a life that was worse than the one he'd had.

Sure it was safer and there were no more run down motels or apartments, no more sharing a double bed with his brother (which had more bad points than good points he learned as the nights grew colder and longer), no more too close to each other to the point of wanting to blow each other's brains out (or in his and Dean's case sometimes just blow each other). No more hunting, fighting or hiding from the law.

Things that for the most part he didn't miss.

But here he was alone, no one knew him, no one knew the things he did or the things he had done. And worse than any of it, there was no Dean. No big brother to rely on for a laugh or for life. There was no one to break his fall.

To stroke his hair when he was down or hurt. No one to do anything for him just to make him laugh, no matter how ridiculous it made them look. There was just no one.

He still had a life of lies, only this one was lonely.

_I'm just gonna drive_

Fighting back the tears threatening to take over him, he threw back the covers and climbed out of bed.

Fuck this.

He was getting nowhere fast. He was tired and sick. Miserable. And suddenly his dorm room was too small for him, too damn suffocating. He needed some fresh air, a change of pace, a break.

Throwing on a pair of jeans a t-shirt, his eyes fell on the duffel back in his closet. Dean's favorite t-shirt and the money still tucked away inside. He'd been saving his own money and had used that. He couldn't bear the thought of using his brother's money to do something he knew was for his own good but was still hurting him none the less.

He jerked it down from the closet, staring at it and back around the room before coming to a decision.

Maybe he just needed a new start all together.

Maybe Stanford wasn't the answer either.


End file.
